


bleeding

by hikaie



Series: dealer's choice [4]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Aftercare, Begging, Biting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dacryphilia, Established Relationship, Frottage, Light BDSM, Other, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Semi-Clothed Sex, Subspace, Teasing, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 16:03:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20066740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaie/pseuds/hikaie
Summary: He chuckles. They feel the warmth of it under the sheets, against their neck. Slipping free of their hands, he wiggles closer, and they drape their arm over his back.“I’m okay now.” He says it very softly. “I just had to get out of my head for a little while.”---bleeding: general card game terminology; when your cards are visible to other players





	bleeding

**Author's Note:**

> i not only typed this fic on my phone i also _posted_ it on my phone. those tags were something else i tell ya.
> 
> anyway here’s something else for this series! you don’t need to read the first two to have context for this one honestly. also, i have like... six other ideas still and two in progress. please send help.

It is very late when Bloth wakes up, drawn suddenly and completely to consciousness. They blink, confused, and slide a hand across the sheets, to the wrinkled and cold spot left exposed in their lover’s wake. More of the blankets are on their side, tangled between their legs, suggesting he’s been gone some time. “Elliott?” They call out, voice sleep-hoarse and quiet, in case he’d just gone to the bathroom. When silence answers them they extract themself from the comforter and slip out into the main room.

The air is more frigid here, and they cross their arms and pad out of the small hallway and into the living area. Low lights come from Elliott’s work area, his back and shoulders haloed in soft yellow and blue. Bloth says his name again and he turns, exposing a startled face and a battered pair of specialty glasses.

“Shoot, did I wake you up?” He sets down whatever he’d been tinkering with and pushes the glasses down the bridge of his nose. It makes him look very serious, a contrast to the bleach-stained novelty shirt he’s wearing.

“No.” They shift from foot to foot on the cold floor. “How long have you been up?”

“Oh, not too long, just a few...” He glances at the clock on his desk and grimaces. “...hours. Yikes.”

“It’s cold.” Bloth complains. “Come back to bed.”

“Alright, alright.” He pushes away from the desk and discards his glasses there. His hair is pulled up into a wobbly bun, and Bloth prods it when he reaches them.

“What were you working on?”

Elliott touches them with cold hands, and they jerk. He laughs and pulls them toward him, ignoring their squirms. “I just got an idea for my holotech and I guess it got away from me.” He yawns and the corners of his eyes crease. Bloth touches him there and he yelps. “Fuck, it  is cold.”

He lets Bloth lead him back to bed, and the blankets get more evenly distributed. They come together in the center of the mattress, Elliott worming up against them and making them grumble when he presses all his frigid limbs against their skin. It’s the cold hand on the back of their neck, the casual finger twirling their hair, that has them sighing.

“Did you have another nightmare?” They ask him bluntly, smoothing his hair back and working the elastic loose. His hand pauses on their nape and their heart aches a bit for it.

“I did wake you up, didn’t I?” He sighs. Thankfully he resumes his toying with their hair.

“No.” Bloth reassures. They slip the loose elastic around their wrist and finger comb his hair. “I am just that good.”

He chuckles. They feel the warmth of it under the sheets, against their neck. Slipping free of their hands, he wiggles closer, and they drape their arm over his back.

“I’m okay now.” He says it very softly. “I just had to get out of my head for a little while.”

“You could have woken me.” Through the dark, Bloth traces the outline of the lampshade with their eyes. They press their hand against Elliott’s upper back, and pat him there. It feels more like awkwardly burping a baby than comforting, so they still their hand. Now they feel the vibration of his voice as he hums.

“You looked like you were sleeping good.”

“That should not stop you.” They move their hand up and down, a small circular motion. Elliott hums at this, too, and attempts to press closer against them. He’s a veritable monkey, and a bed hog, which was why Bloth possessing the blankets had been such a tell. Perhaps they’re too soft- they allow him to slip his leg between theirs, to push and envelop them. He is warm and sturdy, but he doesn’t weigh them down. “Ah, but using me as a pillow is not beneath you.”

“You know me so well babe.” He cracks a smile, the shape of it clear against their collar. Then he yawns, and wiggles his hips. “Hey. I know an even better way to get out of my head.”

“I thought you were all better.” Bloth teases, but they raise their own knee between his and press between his legs. He grunts, gratified, and spreads his legs to grind against them. The soft material of his sweatpants rucks up between his thighs and does little to hide how hard he is.

“Hnnh. Guess I should’ve woken you up after... after... after all.” 

“Yes.” Bloth feels the warmth of arousal, in their stomach, between their thighs, tingling in their skin where he’s turned his mouth against it. “And this is much quicker.” They press their thigh up and his hips jerk. The ensuing moan turns into a laugh.

“You judging my stamina right now?”

“Maybe I am speaking of my own skill.” They fist their hand in the back of his shirt, dragging it up until he gets the picture and sits up. Together they pull it over his head and discard it off the side of the bed. He readily returns to their embrace, laying a kiss on them in the process.

“I’m definitely not one to question that.” His hands return to their hair, twining strands around his fingers and pulling. Bloth smiles into the kiss. They drag their leg up further, such that Elliott has to rock forward. He catches himself on his elbows and moans low, almost directly into their ear.

“Not that fast.” He whines. And yet, he’s rolling his hips, a desperate rhythm that they’re matching. They lower their knee at his plea, and he sighs.

“Aren’t you tired, astin mín?” Bloth soothes with their hand on his back once more. “You’ve already gotten so little sleep. I would not want to keep you.” Scraping their nails down his back as they speak doesn’t distract him from their contradictory words- he shakes his head. They slip their hands under the hem of his pants. Gently, they grope his ass and pull him forward. He obediently rocks his hips and his mouth opens on a breath and stays that way.

“Hound.” His voice is needy, just shy of a whine. It’s too soft to be called that, really. Questioning, maybe. Like he knows he’ll get exactly what he wants. They slip their hand around, caught between their hip and his pelvis, and wrap their fingers around him.

“There we go.” They coo as he rocks up into their hand. “Is that what you want?”

“You.” He breathes. Then, “Hound.” More insistent, and his hand spasms in the sheets beside their head. Bloth has to be careful to focus on their breathing, to not become overwhelmed. He is not usually so behaved, and it is already hard enough to breathe when he’s not coming undone beautifully beneath their hands. They stroke his cock from root to tip, and pause there. Predictably he squirms, but he doesn’t protest. Interesting.

They start to jerk him off quickly, roughly. Something comes out of him- a yelp, a half-formed word- but it gets lost in the desperate noises he makes and the creaking of the bed springs. Bloth can feel his pre, drooling onto the back of their thumb, slicking their strokes. Both of his hands curl in the sheets, and he makes a haunting, despairing kind of noise.

“Wait- wait, not yet-“ He’s close, they can tell by the way his thighs flex around their leg. “Hound, please not yet-“ 

Curious, Bloth concedes, slowing and squeezing around the base. He winces but regains his breath, still mindlessly moving his hips into their closed fist.

“That is not usually what you beg for.” They mean to tease, but their voice is low and gruff. He nods and presses into their neck. His mouth opens, wet, against their pulse, and they still while he drags a long kiss up to their waiting lips. “I should remember this the next time you are a brat.” They manage through the kiss, words broken up by the lengthy, needy exchange. Taking their hand off his cock, they brush up along his pelvis with their knuckles. He rewards them with a full-body shiver, and stays suspiciously quiet.

“Nothing to say to that? Are you quite alright?” It’s too dark to see his face, where it hovers close to their shoulder. They bring their other hand to his head and run it through his limp curls, cup his cheek. He turns his mouth into their palm and sucks a kiss there, making their stomach feel absolutely molten in the process. “Gods.”

“Houndie,” He murmurs, and they wish they could see him, need to see how red his face is, how swollen his lips are, how flushed his chest is. “love you.”

Their thumb presses against his mouth. “And I you.”

It is too easy, the way he sucks their thumb into his mouth. He presses it aside with his tongue until they rub the soft flesh on the inside of his cheek. He lets them work his jaw open like that, and he drools readily.

“You are being so perfectly behaved.” They wonder aloud. His cock twitches against their hip. “Ah. Is that it?” Bloth curls their fingers under his chin. He tilts into their grip obediently. Their other hand returns to his dick, slowly wrapping around it and giving him one careful stroke. His whole body moves with it, and his breathing is loud, controlled. They do this again, and again, listening to him hold in his noises, feeling him shake and salivate. “Very good.” They hazard, and he whimpers.

How had they not seen this?

Bloth sits up, and Elliott follows, rising onto his knees. “I am going to take off your pants.” They tell him. His hands come to their face, tenderly tracing their jaw, paying special attention to the scar tissue on the left side. While he’s occupied they take both hands away from him and work his sweatpants down to his knees, and he raises his thighs so they can push them down further. When they have to lean close to push them off his ankles, he pulls them into a kiss. It’s intense, his lower lip filthy wet, his hands demanding in their hair. They get distracted, let him pull and pull until they’re crawling over him, his own legs trapped beneath him.

“Now yours.” He gasps against their mouth when he lets them go, and his knees rise up on either side of their hips to cage them in. Bloth feels undone, hastily pushing down their leggings. Elliott’s hands join theirs, rolling the material over their hips and thighs, helping them tug it from their calves. The two of them keep getting distracted with each other, mouths searching each other out. Bloth bites him, a none-too-gentle scrape on his jaw, and delights in the way he clutches them closer and hisses. Finally free of their pants, they push at his chest until he’s leaning back.

“Good boy.” They say, slinging one leg over his. His cock slides up against the junction of their thigh and pelvis and he shakes, a full body tremor. Just testing the waters, they roll their hips and he moans encouragingly.

“This one will- mmh, what do they say?” Bloth circles their hips, provoking another groan. “Go in the book?”

“-be one for the books-“ Elliott gasps as they push forward. They feel a spurt of pre hit their abdomen.

“Yes, that is it. What do you think?”

“Kinda- hard to think-“ His voice stutters off into irregular breathing. His hands find their hips and then slip under their shirt, clutching their back and drawing them down to him. Bloth’s hips arch in this position, and they grind mercilessly. Elliott swears.

“Is this what you needed, astin mín?” Bloth cups his face. This close they can make out the bow of his lips and the curve of his nose. “To be told you are good? To be told that I love you?”

His moan is pitiful, coming from the back of his throat. They caress his neck, his jaw, along the uneven line of his stubble. Finally they dip their hand between their bodies, taking him in hand and holding them close to their own sex.

“Bloodhound,” He gasps, voice dangerous. Bloth has known power in many forms- that of a hunter, of a predator of both creatures and men. The power the Gods have bestowed upon them. Even the power of being the Champion, several times over. Yet  this is what almost makes their knees weak, the power they realize they have over this man.

“Is this slow enough for you?” They taunt. In the dark, Elliott hiccups. Perhaps it should turn their stomach, the knowledge that he’s crying, and it almost does, until his voice comes rising up behind the sound, watery and desperate.

“Don’t stop.”

So they don’t. His nails are digging into their back but they hardly feel it, instead focusing on thrusting against him, holding him in place and torturing him as he’d asked them to. As he’d begged them to. They’ve done it slow before, intense before, made love a countless many times. Elliott has asked for it rough, been snide and snarky and talkative throughout. This is different. This is combining the two and yet making them something new and wonderful. His words are lost to moans and pleas and little, lost sobs.

“Elliott. Elliott.  _Elskan, Elliott_.” They murmur his name, over and over, and his hips jump under theirs. He comes suddenly, hot and wet between their legs, throat clenching on what sounds like their name. His hips keep moving into their strokes, and they press closer and rut against him, take their pleasure of him. He doesn’t stop moving his hips until they’ve come as well, their teeth against his shoulder.

“Ohh, fuck.” He breathes, after they’ve released their grip on him and slumped between his spread legs. It is sticky and warm, and they curl their face into his neck and lay a tired kiss there.

“Are you okay?” They press their hand to his cheek and feel the dampness there. To their surprise his hand settles over theirs, fingers interlocking.

“Never been better.” He slurs. They laugh quietly. For awhile they lay together, catching their breath. Then the mess between their legs catches up to them, and they kiss him tenderly on the jaw.

“I do believe we need to shower.”

“...Don’t wanna get up.” Elliott mumbles. He sounds half asleep.

“You will regret it if you do not.” They sit up, careful of where they tuck their knees between his still-parted legs. “Be good for me, hmm?”

He whines low in his throat, though this sound is more annoyed than aroused. “Fuck. I’ve given you way too much power.” Then he sits up, huffing. “Okay, but let the rec-rec- th-the record show that I am only going because you will be there, and naked.”

They sigh and pat his thigh. “I should expect nothing less.” When they move to get up, he catches their hips, and they turn back into the warmth of his body.

“Yes?”

“Houndie.” Oh, no. Not that voice. “Dearest. Pumpkin.”

“Did we not have a conversation about that pet name?” Bloth’s eye roll is lost on him.

“Babe!” He leans in close and knocks his head into their cheek before finding their mouth, kissing them softly. It’s very thorough, a coaxing little push and tilt that has them licking their lips as he pulls away.

“...What?” They finally gruff out, after he continues his silence.

His voice carries a trademark amount of smugness to it when he asks, “Can I wash your hair?”

Their heartbeat thrums in their chest, whooshes in their eardrums. “Yes, Elliott, you may.”

“Sweet.” He makes to get up then and nearly knees them in the chin. “Oops. And don’t expect any cuddling out of me when we’re done because I am  _to_-tally wiped.”

“I would have to sleep on the couch to be safe from your wandering hands.” They deadpan, and he gasps in mock offense.

“You love my wandering hands!” He hisses. In the moment of darkness remaining between this statement and turning on the bathroom light, Bloth manages to hide their smile. Elliott squints in the cool light as they discard their shirt.

“I guess you will just have to find out for yourself after our shower, won’t you?”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. i hc them both as switches (life is so much more fun that way) and that will definitely be represented in later fics.  
2\. i tried my hardest to keep everything gender neutral for bloodhound in this, and probably will in this series. although it’s tagged as frottage that is NOT an explicit declaration of them having/not having a penis. thanks!


End file.
